The excitement of the chase was like a tonic to the Army officer. He had no idea who their pursuer had been and didn’t really care. It had been enough for him to have an opponent against whom to pit his talent and wit. The company wasn’t too bad either.
Marie had opened up more and more during their ride together, and when she finally guided him into her tastefully decorated flat, it felt as natural as a visit to an old friend. She directed him to a seat at the breakfast bar and began preparing a light snack for them to share.
“How long have you known him?” she inquired, taking a seat beside him.
“You mean Nick? We’ve only just met.”
She raised an eyebrow in obvious surprise. “I had no idea. You two seem to have a genuine rapport.”
“Well, you should have seen us earlier,” he answered with a grin. “How about you?”
Marie touched her fingers to her chest in a quizzical gesture. “Me? I too have only known Nick a short time. In fact, I had only just met him at the airport when we came under attack.”
It was Buttrick’s turn for surprise. “I just assumed that since you both work for… You are a… I mean, together, right?”
She gave a coquettish smile. “Nick is very brave and charismatic. Given the circumstances, I suppose it was inevitable that we would…” She shook her head as if trying to dismiss a bothersome notion. “Who can say what the future holds? Nick will return to New York, I will stay here.”
For some reason, Buttrick was suddenly in a very good mood, but before he could respond, Marie let her smile slip and put on a serious mask. “There is one thing that has troubled me. Nick told me that, when he was attacked that day at the museum, the assassin indicated he was under orders not to kill him. He was specifically told not to be the cause of Kismet’s death. How can that be?”
The mere mention of the museum incident had instantly soured Buttrick’s euphoria, but it took a moment for the precipitation from that dark cloud to actually soak in. “Hold on. Are you suggesting they were in cahoots?”
“No,” she answered, earnestly. “I don’t see how that could be possible. I mean if that were true, why would Nick reveal what was said? There has to be another explanation. There’s something about Nick that makes him very important to his enemies. I thought you might have some insight to that.”
“Do you think it could have something to do with his military service?” Wheels began turning in his head. He checked his watch. “It’s still afternoon in Washington. I know someone who might be able to help. Can I use your phone?”
Although vehicle traffic to the area was restricted, Chiron managed to thread the minibus through the barricades and drove right to the edge of the structure he thought of only as “le observatoire”. Despite the lateness of the hour, the area was crowded with tourists and it took a few moments for park security personnel and the gendarmes to reach him. As they got close, they wisely assumed defensive positions and those few equipped with handguns covered one of their comrades who cautiously approached him. Chiron rolled down his window.
“Monsieur, you must get out of the vehicle.”
Chiron did not attempt subterfuge. He slowly raised his hands, openly displaying the remote. “This is the trigger for a very large explosive device. If I let go, it will detonate.”
The gendarme blanched, but did not retreat. Chiron could almost see the wheels turning in his head — the blank look as he searched his memory to find the correct response for the scenario. The paralysis was contagious. Chiron knew that if he did not keep moving, if he got stalled here on the ground, it would all be for naught.
“Young man!” he snapped. “You are wasting time and endangering lives. It is not your job to negotiate with me. Evacuate the area, or the blood of all these people will be on your hands.”
His words galvanized the policeman into action. The man hastened away without comment and began conversing with his peers. Chiron kept his hands up, careful to hold the remote in their view. Beyond their perimeter, rumors were already beginning to surface and he could hear the shouts of panic welling up from the group. Even before the security guards could sound an alarm, the stampede began.
With a heavy sigh, recognizing that he was now irretrievably committed to his chosen course, Chiron opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. He heard the young gendarme he had spoken with shouting for the others to hold their fire, but did not look to see the result. If even one of them unthinkingly loosed a shot, they would realize that the object in his hand was nothing more than the remote control unit for a television set. He had contemplated actually arming the device, but there was too much risk associated with a wireless remote. All it would take was a cell phone or garage door opener randomly hitting the same frequency to set the weapon off prematurely. There would be plenty of time to arm the detonator once he reached his ultimate goal. His bluff worked and the discipline of the gendarmes held. No shots were fired. Chiron moved to the rear of the Caravelle and opened the door.
For all the technical complexities of the device and his plans for it, the thing that had stymied him almost to point of failure was the physical difficulty of moving the bomb the final distance. Although it was not yet armed, in order for his deception to be convincing, he could not let go of his decoy control for even a moment. He was faced with the logistical dilemma of moving the detonator, which weighed almost as much as he did, one handed. The answer had occurred to him only recently, while watching a hospital drama on television: a medical stretcher with spring-loaded collapsible wheels. It now took only a minimum of effort for him to draw the mobile gurney from the spacious interior of the minibus, and as soon as the undercarriage was exposed, the accordion-like wheel assembly deployed with the suddenness of a trap being sprung. The multi-directional rollers glided along on the concrete surface as if there was no burden at all.
Why then, thought Chiron as he began the long walk toward his destination, does it suddenly feel like the heaviest thing in the world?
Seventeen
The suggested connection between the 1995 French atomic tests and the worldwide increase in volcanic activity was just the beginning for Chiron. He had discovered an area of science — or rather fringe science — dedicated to the study of just such a phenomenon, linked not surprisingly to the theories, both actual and suggested, of radio pioneer Nikolai Tesla. Tesla’s experiments with seismology and the generation of acoustic waves, conceivably with the potential to destroy the planet, were so plausible, so inflammatory, that it was easy to gloss over the seemingly minor flaws and inconsistencies.
For a brief while, Chiron was sucked in; the link between the bombs and the period of increased volcanism seemed beyond dispute. But experimental and computer models did not support the hypothesis that an acoustic wave from the tests could have awakened slumbering mountains. Such a catastrophic harmonic could only be generated by repeated detonations of relatively small yield, not a single massive explosion. There had to be another explanation, but it would require turning his back on the exciting, but ultimately mistaken ideas put forth by the Tesla supporters. The answer occurred to him one day while he was contemplating the observatory.
“What observatory?” inquired Rebecca.
Kismet scanned the surrounding paragraphs. “That’s all he says about it: ‘le observatoire’. Oh, wait… it seems to be some sort of lab for studying the earth’s magnetic field.” He kept reading.